


Raise Your Weapons

by blacktofade



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Fight Sex, First Time, Hate Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-13
Updated: 2011-04-13
Packaged: 2017-10-24 18:26:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacktofade/pseuds/blacktofade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Izaya annoys the fuck out of Shizuo, and Shizuo throws him through a window.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raise Your Weapons

It’s not raining, more of a fine mist hanging in the air, making his shirt feel cold and damp, sticking his hair, slowly but surely, to the top of his head. With his hands firmly in his pockets, fingers absentmindedly tapping against his phone, he walks further away from the more populated area of Ikebukuro and into the darker parts of town, where drug peddlers lurk around corners and questionably clad women smile at him with painted lips.

He knows Izaya's there, he can smell him. The stench that plagues him wherever he goes; he can't escape it.

"What do you want?" he asks the empty alleyway, listening out for a reply, but only hearing the sharp tap of his own shoes against the pavement. He pauses for just a moment as he feels the wind at his back change and that's when he notices the noise of footsteps continues. He turns to find Izaya slipping around the corner of the street, walking towards him with his face half-hidden by shadows; the streetlights lining the pathway do nothing to help, just cast him in an unnatural yellow glow. Maybe it actually suits him.

"I hear your life has been boring lately, so I came to make amends. I’ve been lax in my hiring of miscreants to ruin your days; please forgive me."

He doesn't want to fight, he really doesn't, but as Izaya continues forward he finds himself clenching his fist and swallowing hard.

“Go home, Izaya,” he gets out between clenched teeth.

“But where’s the fun in that? I have bets placed on what the next item you throw at me will be. I have ¥500 on a bicycle.”

He shouldn’t let Izaya get to him like he does, but when Izaya’s around he just can’t think for all the thoughts tumbling around his head. He soothes the white noise by grabbing the nearest street sign, ripping it out of the ground. His chest heaves and he's almost positive a bone in his wrist just snapped, but it doesn’t stop him from launching it in Izaya’s direction.

Izaya stops short, letting the pole land inches from his feet, but the smirk that seems to be a permanent fixture on his face never drops.

"Now that's a greeting," he says, nonchalantly stepping over the crumpled post, “but I guess I win that bet because that’s a _bicycles only_ sign.”

Shizuo’s left eye twitches, but instead of throwing everything else lining the street at Izaya, he turns on his heel and continues walking away.

“What, no chasing today?”

Izaya’s at his side before he knows it, reaching a hand out towards Shizuo’s shoulder to stop him in place. Shizuo spins before Izaya can even begin to retract his arm; he wraps his fingers around Izaya’s throat and lifts him bodily off the ground before pinning him to the wall behind. Izaya lets out a faint choking noise and tugs at Shizuo’s wrist with weak pulls, but to no avail.

“Leave,” Shizuo warns, his voice low. After a few more beats, he drops Izaya, letting him fall, gasping for breath, on shaking legs, while he turns and continues on as though nothing has happened.

He makes it all of ten feet before Izaya’s back, walking just one step behind. He rounds on him again, though this time Izaya has enough sense to sidestep even though Shizuo keeps both hands firmly at his sides.

"Why are you here?" Shizuo asks and Izaya tilts his head to one side.

“Would you believe me if I said I wanted to see you?”

“No,” Shizuo replies bluntly.

“Well then,” he says with a laugh, “I wanted to see you.”

Shizuo narrows his eyes at him, but Izaya just shrugs as if that’s all there is to it.

“I have a proposition for you.”

“I’m not interested.”

“I haven’t told you what the job is yet, Shizuo; at least think about it. I need someone to rearrange my furniture; I’m just not strong enough.”

Shizuo throws a punch hoping to hit Izaya full in the face, but just ends up sinking his fist into the bricks behind as Izaya dodges. It hurts. More than he truly expects. He pulls his hand out of the sizable dent he’s made and stares at his knuckles, flexing his fingers to make sure none of them are broken.

“Let’s talk,” Izaya says suddenly from close by, his breath burning the side of Shizuo’s face.

“I should kill you,” Shizuo threatens, turning towards him.

“Let’s save that for later.”

Shizuo tries to throw another punch, but this time Izaya catches it with one hand and darts forward with his blade in the other, quickly swiping at Shizuo’s throat. Shizuo throws him off, hand darting straight up to his neck; there’s no blood, but his bowtie falls ruined into his palm. Izaya laughs as he slips the knife back into his pocket.

"Do you not recognize this area, Shizuo?" Izaya questions backing into the alcove of a doorway. He casually kicks backwards, knocking one of the doors open with his heel. “I think a part of you unconsciously decided to try to find me.”

Shizuo doesn't know if Izaya's breaking in or not, doesn't care either way because Izaya hooks his fingers between the buttons of his waistcoat and he's about two seconds from snapping his arm into three pieces. Izaya's left eyebrow jumps as though he knows what Shizuo is thinking but doesn't let him go just tugs him over the threshold and into the lobby. Shizuo blames the sheer audacity of Izaya for his inability to do anything other than follow. Izaya calls the lift without saying a word, just steadily staring at Shizuo.

“Cat got your tongue?”

No, Shizuo thinks, apparently the louse does.

Shizuo doesn't need to be prompted to step inside when the doors prise themselves apart. He stands in the corner, playing with a cigarette in his pocket just to keep his hands busy. Izaya presses the 7th, topmost button and for a second Shizuo thinks he'll press them all just to be a pain in the ass. It shouldn't take long, it probably doesn't, it just feels like forever before the lift dings to tell them they've arrived.

Izaya ushers him out with a mocking low bow and a grin plastered to his face. Shizuo belatedly wonders if it's a trap, but then realises he can rip the walls down with his bare hands and send everyone to hell even if it is.

He finds himself at the end of a large room, some kind of office. Izaya holds his arms out, gesturing around.

"Welcome to my inner sanctum"

This is not what Shizuo expects. He stares at Izaya for a long moment, trying his hardest to figure out what's going on inside his mind, what he's thinking, what he's plotting.

"Why here?"

"Where else could we go to have a private chat? Your place? No I rather doubt you'd let me inside, so I brought you to my office."

“Why talk now? Why not when you first began tormenting me?”

“Tormenting? I wouldn’t call it that. Anyway, where’s the fun in telling you first? No, I enjoy watching you stir yourself up. It’s all the entertainment I need.”

Shizuo takes a step back towards the lift; he’s had enough of listening to Izaya spout nonsense. He’s stopped by a hand curled around the crook of his elbow and he judders to a halt, wondering if it’s even worth it to push Izaya away, to throw him straight through the window and let him fall back down the seven stories. He settles for roughly tugging his arm away and glaring down at him.

“I can help you, you know,” Izaya starts, sauntering across the room. “I have friends in very high places.” He perches on the corner of the desk with his hands folded in his lap. “What if I told you I could fix you?”

“There’s nothing broken that needs fixing.”

Izaya tilts his head. “Is that so? What about that?” He nods towards Shizuo’s wrist which faintly throbs, though not nearly enough to distract him.

“It’s nothing. How do you even know it’s broken?”

“I have my ways.”

Izaya smirks and stands, walking behind the desk then crouching down to reach something. Without looking he tosses a small container of milk at Shizuo, who catches it easily in one hand. It’s cold, the glass perspiring in his grip, and he realises Izaya must have a mini-fridge back there. He sets the milk down on a nearby filing cabinet, untouched.

“Don’t trust me, Shizuo? I’m offended.”

“I’m not thirsty.”

Izaya turns and stares out the window; over his shoulder Shizuo can see car taillights gliding by a few streets over and the faint glow from neighbouring buildings. He should leave, he never should have come. He thinks about turning to go, but when he looks back up, he sees Izaya’s reflection in the window staring at him, his eyes dark, lips just a thin line.

“Come here; look at them Shizuo,” Izaya says, index finger pressed against the glass. “Such imperfect things.”

“I’m leaving,” he states, as though saying it out loud will help him actually do it.

“I doubt you will,” Izaya laughs, turning to face him. “You’re too curious. That’s what drives you mad, isn’t it? You don’t know _anything_ about me, but I know _everything_ about you and that annoys you.”

“That’s not true.”

“Hmm. How often do you tell yourself that? The way I see it, you can’t leave me alone; you see the barest sight of me and you start a game of chase.”

Shizuo takes a step forward in anger.

“You know where you are and aren’t allowed, and yet _you_ still come to taunt _me_.”

“I have momentary lapses in my memory. I just suddenly find myself in Ikebukuro.”

Shizuo’s had enough. He picks up a nearby chair and heaves it at Izaya. It’s a lazy shot, Izaya could easily step out of its path, but he doesn’t and Shizuo watches as it hits him full in the chest and sends him smashing through the window behind, falling out of sight. For a long moment, Shizuo remains frozen in place, wondering if he’s finally finished off Izaya. Carefully he walks forward, crunching bits of glass underfoot as he goes, until he stands in front of the hole, which lets in cool night air. Looking down, he finds Izaya grinning back up at him, fingers curved around the window ledge, holding himself up.

“Shizuo, I’m hurt that you’d try this hard to kill me.”

This is what it’s come down to, Shizuo thinks. Now he has to choose whether he saves or kills Izaya. Truth be told, he’d thought it would be much easier to decide to stomp on Izaya’s fingers and send him falling and falling and falling, but now, there’s doubt niggling at the back of his mind and that scares him more than anything.

Izaya laughs.

“My, my, Shizuo. What will you do?”

“Pull yourself up,” Shizuo orders.

“I can’t,” Izaya replies with a smile on his face that says it’s a blatant lie, “I’m not strong enough.”

With that he drops his right hand to his side, holding on to the ledge with only his left. Shizuo doesn’t move, but he knows Izaya will have no problems about letting go completely if he doesn’t hurry up.

“Why did you bring me here?” he asks instead.

“To show that you can’t live with or without me,” Izaya replies and surprisingly enough it actually sounds like the truth.

“I haven’t saved you yet; there’s still time to prove that I can live without you.”

Izaya hums in the back of his throat and shrugs with one shoulder as he finally lets go. In the split second he has to decide, Shizuo crouches and grabs a hold of Izaya’s wrist, stopping him from plummeting to the ground. Izaya stares up at him, a broad grin plastered to his face.

For a second, he keeps Izaya dangling in midair, wondering if it would make his life easier if he just dropped him, but he knows Izaya would win if he did that. A small voice in the back of his head says Izaya wins if Shizuo pulls him up, too; he ignores it as he lifts Izaya easily through the broken window and sets him back on his feet.

"My hero," Izaya says sarcastically, holding clasped hands under his chin.

He doesn’t wait for Izaya to begin mocking him further, instead he turns, hoping like mad that Izaya will let him go now; he’s made his point.

A finger hooks into the strap on the back of his waistcoat and forces him to stop.

“Ah, not so fast Prince Charming.”

Shizuo grits his teeth, his shoulders tensing.

“You’ve had your fun, Izaya, now let me go.”

It’s silent for a long moment and Shizuo feels as though he should turn to make sure Izaya is still there.

“You’re mine, you know,” Izaya says quietly. Not a jibe, just a statement. “Just as much as I’m yours.”

The weight of Izaya’s hold disappears, but Shizuo doesn’t move.

“You know what’s funny, Shizuo? I’ve tried my hardest to make your life as terrible as possible, but all I’ve managed is to fall into my own trap.”

He laughs humourlessly and Shizuo turns back towards him.

“I love humans,” Izaya continues. “That’s no secret, but you, you’re something else entirely.”

“I’m human,” he protests and Izaya waves a nonchalant hand to say he already knows.

“Yes, but you understand. You understand what it’s like to feel different, like an outsider. Everyone fears you, Shizuo.”

“People fear you too.”

“Exactly.”

Shizuo finally gets the point Izaya’s making and blinks slowly. He didn’t wake up this morning thinking he’d be learning life lessons from Izaya and feeling as though they’re actually a lot closer than he originally believed. Izaya seems to understand.

“Would it make you feel better if you punched me?” Izaya asks, his face serious.

Maybe he should do just that in order to make a point, he thinks, but instead of curling his hand tightly into a ball, he steps forward and twists his fingers into Izaya’s thin shirt.

“I’m leaving,” he says walking towards Izaya, forcing him slowly backwards.

“I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve already said that,” Izaya replies, voice jumping slightly as his back hits an unbroken pane of glass and he stops suddenly. The wind whips around the edge of the smashed window next to them, ruffling the fluffy edges of Izaya’s jacket and mussing up Shizuo’s hair even further; it’s cold and about the only thing that hasn’t changed in Shizuo’s life in the past hour or so.

“This is ridiculous,” he mutters.

“I agree,” Izaya responds. “Maybe this is all our fighting has been about? Just a lot of pent up sexual frustration.”

“Who said anything about sexual frustration?”

“You’re not about to kiss me then?”

“No,” Shizuo lies, even as he’s bending low to bring their mouths together, the heat of Izaya’s lips instantaneously apparent. He blames it on a momentary lapse of judgement, something he’s bound to regret in the morning, but no one has ever made him see so clearly and it’s just his luck that when someone does, it’s someone he despises.

He sinks his teeth into Izaya’s bottom lip and Izaya huffs a laugh straight into his mouth before pulling away.

“It’s okay as long as we don’t stop fighting, right? If we do, it just gets weird.”

Shizuo presses back in, using his mouth to distract Izaya long enough that he can wrap a hand around each of his wrists and pin them high above his head; in other words, Shizuo thinks, Izaya _lets_ him restrain him. In this position, Izaya’s shirt lifts just high enough to reveal a small section of the pale skin over his stomach, stretched taut and oh so inviting. He lets go of Izaya’s right wrist – though Izaya continues to keep it pinned to the window himself – and drags his knuckles across the smoothness before roughly shoving Izaya’s shirt further up.

“Did you expect hidden tentacles?” Izaya asks, stomach rising and falling with each breath.

“No, I know you keep those further down.”

He lets his hand fall, the shirt along with it, gently brushing it over the front of Izaya’s trousers to make his point.

“Ah.”

Shizuo can’t figure out if it’s a reply or a gasp. If he’s honest, he doesn’t care; either way works for him. He leans forward, shifting aside the collar of Izaya’s shirt with his mouth as he bites down the curve of his neck, along his shoulder. He misjudges his strength as he sinks his teeth into the skin below, hoping only to leave two neat rows of indents, but instead the bitter tang of blood spreads across his tongue and he draws away in surprise. Izaya watches him with a heavy gaze, lips barely parted as he lets out a low noise from the back of his throat and that’s when Shizuo notices that Izaya’s trousers are beginning to tent in the front.

“You get off on this.”

Not a question, which is lucky because Izaya doesn’t answer. He watches the blood slowly bubble to the surface, diluting gradually in the wetness Shizuo’s mouth has already left around it. He wipes it clean with his hand, ignoring the quiet breath Izaya lets out when his fingers brush over the steadily bruising skin, then rubs it off on Izaya’s jacket. Before Izaya can complain, he presses his mouth back against the mark and worries his teeth against it. Izaya finally drops his hands from above his head and twines his fingers into Shizuo’s hair, holding him in place, pressing him down harder at the same time.

Shizuo sucks and licks and bites, does everything he can think of to turn the pale skin of Izaya’s shoulder a deeper shade and make Izaya writhe further against him. Shizuo slips the fingers of his right hand under the hem of Izaya’s shirt, rubbing his thumb over Izaya’s navel then up his side to run over the prominent ridges of his ribs beneath the skin.

“Don’t you ever eat?” Shizuo asks, words slightly muffled by Izaya’s shoulder.

“It’s all the running I have to do when you chase me.”

Shizuo bites him again, in a different spot, a little lower down from the previous mark, almost directly over his collarbone. Izaya lets go of the back of his head and instead grabs the hand that’s under his shirt, pushing it down towards the fastenings of his trousers.

“These were expensive,” he says as Shizuo easily undoes his belt and clasps, “I’d rather not ruin them.”

“You don’t want to come in them like a sixteen year old boy, is what you’re saying.”

“Well, if that’s what you want and you’re willing to buy me a new pair, we can make arrangements.”

Before Izaya can get another word out, Shizuo pushes Izaya’s trousers and underwear down, letting gravity pull them just below his knees, and he palms Izaya’s half-hard cock. Izaya’s hands slam backwards into the glass as he juts his hips forward and glares at Shizuo as though it’s his fault his body’s responding so enthusiastically – which Shizuo guesses is true in one sense.

"Don't you care that people can see us?" Izaya asks, voice even despite the way his chest heaves with each breath.

"They can see _you_ in _your_ office. It would take them far longer to recognise me. Who would suspect I'd be able to stand you long enough to have you pressed against this window?"

"They'll start talking."

"When don't they? It'll be nothing new, though it would be if _you_ finally stopped."

Izaya opens his mouth as if to start up again, but Shizuo quickly slides his mouth over his, using his tongue to keep Izaya otherwise occupied. It's a blessed silence.

He firmly begins to stroke Izaya, feeling his cock twitch gently in his grasp as he rubs his thumb over the head, spreading precome and helping to slick up the skin. Izaya momentarily seems to forget how to kiss, his lips left parted for Shizuo to lick his way between them and take what he wants. By the time Izaya starts to respond, Shizuo draws away, leaving a parting bite on Izaya’s chin. Izaya twists his face to the side, his lips curling up; Shizuo just leans forward and swipes his tongue under Izaya’s ear at the edge of his jaw then pulls away.

“Does it annoy you that I know your weakness and I’m willing to exploit it?”

Izaya looks at him, lips curve into a lazy smile.

“No, though only because I know yours and I’ve been exploiting it the whole time.”

Shizuo pauses mid-stroke and waits for Izaya to continue. Izaya leans forward, wrapping his arms around Shizuo’s neck, and pulling himself up onto his toes. With his mouth even with Shizuo’s ear, Izaya sighs gently.

“Shizuo, it’s no secret: you get off on controlling those around you. Do you really think I’d let just anyone pin me to my own office window?”

“I still don’t know why you _are_ letting me do this.”

“Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer? Or is that too cliché?”

“I think it’s bullshit.”

Izaya laughs and finally pulls back a little.

“Good,” he says, meeting Shizuo’s gaze before he moves in to kiss him. “Me too.”

Shizuo resumes stroking Izaya, clasping his other hand around Izaya’s hip. Izaya’s own hands wind their way down Shizuo’s body, checking pockets and all the creases of his clothes in the process, until his fingers finally dance across the metal buckle of Shizuo’s belt. As Shizuo sucks on Izaya’s tongue, Izaya easily undoes it, flicking open the top button to Shizuo’s trousers in the process. As he pulls Shizuo’s zipper down, he presses just hard enough for his knuckles to run down the side of Shizuo’s trapped erection, causing a faint hitch in Shizuo’s breath.

Before he knows it, Izaya has his trousers and underwear down just far enough that his cock springs free.

“You _do_ have big hands,” Izaya comments as he smirks at Shizuo, who scoffs in response.

“How about you put your own hands to work?” he says and Izaya does just that.

His hands are cool around Shizuo, fingers small and almost feminine, but it’s good, better than he truly expects from someone like Izaya. He imagines Izaya by himself, fisting his own cock, sprawled across a bed with the sheets pushed down around his ankles; the image seems to jump straight to his erection and Izaya huffs laugh.

“Not bad then?”

He doesn’t reply, just keeps working at Izaya’s length, trying to do everything and anything to help bring him off quicker. His hand’s almost a blur by the time Izaya hisses and grabs his wrist to hold him still.

“I want to come, not get friction burns on my cock,” Izaya groans, moving Shizuo’s hand at a slower, gentler pace. “Not everything needs to be rushed.”

Shizuo relents, keeping his anger in check as he continues by himself, letting Izaya go back to stroking him in return. He steps closer, changing the angle of his arm and lessening the ache in his muscles. He brings his other hand up to press against the window beside Izaya’s head and he knows when he pulls it away later, there will be a smudge of sweat underneath.

“I didn’t expect to find myself in this position,” he admits, pressing his nose into Izaya’s slightly damp hair.

“Tonight?”

“Ever.”

“Well, Shizuo,” Izaya says with much less sarcasm than Shizuo expects, “I’m honoured.”

Izaya drags his fingertips down the underside of Shizuo’s cock, dipping them behind his sac and pressing gently. Shizuo bucks forward involuntarily, accidentally knocking their erections together, and the moan that forces its way out of his lungs is anything but false. Izaya rubs small circles, pressing his thumb into the base of his cock, and as cliché as it sounds, it’s unlike anything Shizuo’s felt before. His own fist tightens around Izaya and Izaya’s hips jolt and shudder in response. Carefully, Shizuo lets go of him, then takes them both in hand, pumping slowly, letting Izaya feel their cocks slide together within his closed fist.

Izaya’s fingers still press and explore between his legs, running over sensitive skin and circling slowly around his entrance, but there’s a lack of finesse; Shizuo can feel Izaya’s hands shake, the way his knuckles brush the inside of his thighs every now and again accidentally.

Izaya shifts backwards into the window letting his head fall with a quiet _knock_ against the glass, his eyes falling shut.

“Shizuo,” he groans, the pitch of his voice steadily climbing as he moves to grip Shizuo’s upper arm, fingers tightening around the starched shirt. “Shit.”

He comes over Shizuo’s fist and his own shirt, his heavy breathing bordering on a laugh.

Shizuo keeps a hold of him, spreading the wetness over both of their cocks and easing the slide of his hand as he continues stroking. He watches a lazy grin spread across Izaya’s face and when he finally opens his eyes again, his eyelids are hooded.

“Having problems, Shizuo?” he asks, voice low.

“Just because I don’t come as – ” he interrupts himself with a quiet gasp when the hand Izaya has on his arm falls away and cups around the head of his cock, twisting gently, “quickly as you, doesn’t mean there’s something wrong.”

Izaya hums as though thinking, but doesn’t let go, just continues rolling his hand, thumbing carefully along the underside of his cock.

“If it helps, you can take control again,” Izaya teases then lets out a sharp laugh as Shizuo does just that, picking Izaya up by the waist and turning him quickly around. He pushes the side of Izaya’s face into the glass and pins him, bending him over in the process. He pushes his cock between Izaya’s thighs and begins to thrust, holding a hand on the small of Izaya’s back, arching his spine downwards and angling him so that his length nudges against Izaya’s balls with every thrust.

Izaya clamps down around him and he tries to ignore the grin plastered to Izaya’s face.

“Is that better?” Izaya asks, to which Shizuo responds by speeding up, the sound of skin against skin easily heard above the whistling wind beside them.

Shizuo’s hips begin to falter, his movements turning staccato as Izaya clenches his thighs rhythmically around him. He twists his fingers into Izaya’s hair and tugs as he finally comes between Izaya’s thighs, coating himself and Izaya’s skin with the sticky mess. Izaya doesn’t try to slip away, even as Shizuo continues to hold him in place while he catches his breath.

He watches as Izaya breathes over the glass by his face, fogging it up and allowing him to write their initials with a faintly shaking finger, surrounding the letters with little crooked hearts. He grins up at Shizuo as Shizuo quickly swipes his hand over the drawings, erasing it all in a single wipe. He finally lets go of Izaya, stepping carefully back and ignoring the state he’s in as he quickly pulls his briefs and trousers back into place.

“Isn’t this nice, Shizuo?” Izaya murmurs still pressed against the window. “It’s so quiet.” He looks over his shoulder at Shizuo as he says, “I think this is the eye of the storm.”

He’s probably right, Shizuo thinks, but doesn’t say anything. They won’t stop fighting; If Shizuo sees Izaya tomorrow in Ikebukuro, he’ll run after him the same as any other day. Shizuo is pretty sure he’ll never understand this momentary ceasefire, that it’ll haunt him until the day he dies either out of hatred of himself or a want for more.

He doesn’t know what to say. _Thank you_ would probably just earn him a knife under the throat, mostly because Izaya would never believe it were truly him saying it. In the end, Shizuo doesn’t have to say a word, Izaya does it for him.

“I’ll send you the invoice for my new window,” he teases, and yeah, they definitely won’t stop fighting.

Shizuo draws his fist back.


End file.
